long live the reckless and the brave
by katiecat23
Summary: Root feels a bullet hit her abdomen, and before she can straighten up, another quickly follows. Then she's falling, falling, and the bullets stop when she hits the floor beneath her. Somewhere close, Sameen Shaw is screaming. Alternate simulation for If-Then-Else.


**long live the reckless and the brave**

 **Disclaimer:** Do I own POI? No? Maybe someday, then.

 **A/N:** I apologize in advance if the characters (especially Shaw) are out of character. I tried my best.

XXX

 _Recalibrating…_

 _Filtering options…_

 _Possible variables:_

 _Root._

 _Sameen Shaw._

 _Filtering options for limited casualties…_

XXX

In the end, Root calls Shaw. They're in a lull between waves of Samaritan operatives and the Machine is buzzing statistics in Root's ear. She hasn't asked yet, but Root's pretty sure she's not getting out of here alive. After all, that had been the plan. To her left, John is putting pressure on a bullet wound in Fusco's shoulder. Harold, looking terrified, observes. Root reloads her guns and positions herself to best see down the hall.

With a short burst of static, the comms open up. "Hey sweetie," Root purrs. "You busy?"

Shaw's answering huff of annoyance is predictable. "Root, where are you?" Frowning, Root peeks down the hall at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Basement," she answers simply, and takes out the first operative that turns the corner unsuspecting. He's the first of seven, the Machine says.

"I'm coming for you," Shaw states in a voice that leaves no room for argument. Root takes out the next two men that round the corner, but a third gets a bullet off and it whizzes through the flesh of her arm.

"No," Root says sharply, but her voice sticks. "Don't come, Sameen, please. No one else needs to die."

"If this is your idea of dying a hero, it sucks," Shaw growls, but Root can tell she's not as indifferent as she's trying to appear. "You're not dying today, Root. You're too important."

"To the mission?" Root teases, wondering how far Shaw will let her push. Behind her, Harold and John are helping Fusco to the elevator. She trails behind them, eyes on the hallway.

Shaw pauses before grumbling, "To me, Root. Damn it, you're too important to me." Harold's calling out that the elevator won't go, but Root knows. It happened in all of the simulations She ran. Making her way to the override, she hears more footsteps, but they're running this time. _Shaw?_

Root has just pressed the override button when Martine turns the corner. Harold is begging for her to get in the elevator, but Root ignores him and focuses on the blonde in front of her and listens for the woman in her ear.

Raising both guns, she goes to take her stand. "That's sweet, Sameen. I'm sorry I can't stick around for more. This has been fun. Say goodbye to Bear for me."

She thinks she hears the footsteps speed up and somewhere, Shaw screams her name. But then the air is filled with gunshots, and everything is white noise. Root feels a bullet hit her abdomen, and before she can straighten up, another quickly follows. Then she's falling, falling, and the bullets stop when she hits the floor beneath her.

Somewhere close, Sameen Shaw is screaming.

XXX

 _[Two days earlier.]_

Walking down the crowded street, Root weaves in between pedestrians as she makes her way toward the security camera on the corner. When she reaches it, she waits until the red light blinks at her in recognition. Exhaling, Root stalls. She knows she could have had this conversation through her implant, but she wanted to look her god in the eye this time. The apocalypse was coming, and Root had just one plea.

Squaring her shoulders, Root looks up. "Alright, listen. Shaw won't like me doing this, so don't tell her, okay?" The light blinks once. Yes. "I know you've been running the simulations for the stock exchange. I'm begging you, _please_ , to save Sameen. You think she's the most expendable, but she's not. I need her to live through this." Root breathes. "I know Harold helped you to understand people, but you don't understand how we feel about others. You taught me not all people are bad code. Sameen is good code. Please, I'm begging you, don't let her die. Even if it means I do."

The Machine answers via the cochlear implant. "That is not an optimal outcome."

"I know." People have started to stare at Root as they walk past. "It doesn't matter. Sameen matters."

The Machine is quiet again, and Root begins to walk away. Two blocks later, She answers. "I will try. Is that good enough?"

 _Yes_ , Root thinks. _That is good enough._

XXX

The next night, Root finds herself slouching lazily on Shaw's couch, her head on the shorter woman's shoulder. A movie is on the TV, but Root has only noticed the amount of cars and explosions and has no clue as to the plot. She and Shaw have been doing this more often recently, and they've practically formed a routine out of it. At first, it had been Shaw who had been wary of how domestic they were getting. Of late, however, Root was the one who was scared – not of domesticity, but of time running out.

She had broken a few times and asked the Machine how likely it was for her and Shaw to survive and grow old, and the numbers had been terrifyingly low. Now, with their mission at the stock exchange looming on the horizon, Root was afraid those numbers would go down even more. The Machine hadn't said any more on the subject of allowing Root to sacrifice herself for Shaw, but Root was almost completely certain She would listen. It was the best way to minimize mass casualties.

Looking down at the hacker, Shaw senses that Root's mind is elsewhere. Shrugging the shoulder that Root is leaning on, she says, "Hey Eeyore, you're doing that weird zone-out thing again. You're freaking me out." Root sighs in response.

"Sorry, Sam. I guess my mind's just a little preoccupied."

Frowning, Shaw asks, "Root, what's wrong? This isn't normal for you, and that's saying something."

Root allows herself a small smirk before sitting up and looking Shaw in the eye. She hesitates. "I'm worried, Sameen. There's a big chance we won't make it out of this alive."

The smaller woman purses her lips and nods. Of course Root would be worrying about survival rates. She broods in silence for a moment before saying, "Don't worry about it, Root. I don't care what the Machine says. We'll be fine."

Root frowns. "How can you be so sure?"

Shaw rolls her eyes, but there isn't much venom behind it. "Because there's no way in hell I'm letting anything happen to you, idiot. I do the protecting, remember? And besides, the Machine will look after you."

The hacker still feels uncertain, but she smiles. "Didn't know you cared, Shaw."

Growling quietly, Shaw mumbles, "I didn't say that. But someone's still gotta watch your ass."

"And you would just _love_ to do that, wouldn't you, Sameen?" Root drawls, her voice overly flirty and her smile growing. Groaning loudly at the trap she just walked into, Shaw swats at the hacker's head. Root chuckles softly and settles back down against Shaw's shoulder, feeling better but no more ready for the day to come.

They continue watching the movie in silence, but Shaw can still feel Root's tension. Cautiously, she reaches over and grips the hacker's hand tightly. Words seem inadequate, but she tries anyway. "We'll make it, Root. You'll make it. I promise." Root smiles into the agent's shoulder and squeezes her hand back. Tears prick at her eyes but she says nothing, because despite Shaw's protectiveness that is almost sweet, Root ultimately knows what tomorrow will bring. They both can't make it out alive; the Machine has told her that half a hundred times, but one of them will. Just not the one Shaw wants; the one that Shaw won't admit that she doesn't want to continue without. Root's made sure of that, and the guilt still stings.

None of this she can say to Shaw, so Root sits in silence and absorbs Shaw's warmth, enjoying what will surely be the last moments they have together. The sky is dark and the Machine is quiet but Shaw is warm and Shaw is _here,_ and Root's not dead yet. So Root closes her eyes and focuses on that she's alive, that sheishere with Shaw, and that if the end is coming, at least she'll die like this.

XXX

 _Recalibrating…_

 _Filtering options…_

 _Possible variables:_

 _Root._

 _Sameen Shaw._

 _Filtering options for limited casualties…_

 _Contacting Analog Interface…_

XXX

"Root? Root!" Shaw watches helplessly as the hacker gets shot once, then twice. Beyond her, the guys watch in horror behind the closing elevator. Shaw runs faster, faster, until she's at Root's side. Beautiful bleeding Root, whose face lights up when she sees Shaw, despite the fact that she's dying. Something deep inside Shaw is aching, and it propels her forward.

"Sameen," is all Root can utter when Shaw reaches her. Carefully, gently, in a way so unlike herself, Shaw cradles the hacker's head against her. Beautiful bleeding Root, who uses all of her remaining energy to reach up and touch Shaw's cheek, leaving behind a red streak as it falls.

Shaw is calling Root's name over and over, trying to get her to breathe and just hold on, goddammit. Lowering her forehead to Root's, she whispers, "Hold on, Root. I can't lose you. Please."

Root's breaths are few and far between, but her eyes flicker open briefly to meet Shaw's. "I'm sorry, Sameen." Her eyes close and Shaw screams, because no, this can't be happening. Beautiful bleeding Root, who Shaw had sworn would make it out of this alive. Out of all of them, Root deserved to live.

Heels are clicking on the floor and Shaw's mind yells _Martine,_ but for some reason she doesn't care about the operative's return. Martine can kill her too and it won't make a damn difference. It isn't until the heels stop and Shaw feels no bullets does she dare look up. Her vision is blurred and she can't help but think how ridiculous it is that she's crying over Root. Beautiful bleeding Root, whose empty eyes are staring at the ceiling because of Martine. Root, the only person Shaw thinks she's ever come to love.

Blinking away the unwanted emotions, Shaw focuses on Martine. She's stopped walking and is looking at the two women in front of her; one breathing and crying, one bleeding and dead. Shaw recognizes something akin to guilt on Martine's face before she unloads a whole clip into the operative's body. The blonde falls and Shaw drops her weapon and weeps.

Beautiful bleeding Root, the only person who made Shaw remember what feelings were. Shaw can't remember the last time she cried, but she certainly never thought she'd cry again, not like this. The floor is cold on her legs but Root is still warm, and Shaw doesn't think she can leave her. But hours later, after Samaritan's agents have left, John returns. Shaw has gotten as cold as Root but neither have moved, and John has to forcibly pull Shaw away. She lets out an agonized yell as Root's head rolls to the side and hits the floor. John's heart aches at the sight but not nearly as much as Shaw's, and she hates it. John manages to get her out without injury, promising they'll come back for Root.

When they return to the subway, John cleans most of Root's blood off of Shaw before backing away to join Harold. The tear tracks have dried on her face but she makes no move to get rid of them. The subway is quiet and empty and _wrong,_ and Shaw wants to explode. Grabbing a blanket, Shaw climbs onto the cot and buries her head in the pillow. Her muffled shouts fill the subway until she falls asleep.

Her nightmares are haunted by what-ifs and maybe somedays and all the things she left unsaid. Root always smiles and forgives Shaw before morphing into her dying form. Beautiful bleeding Root, who she was always so close to saving but was always too late.

XXX

The next week passes in a blur. Shaw has moved robotically from day to day, taking down the irrelevant numbers as if there's no tomorrow. (When Harold mentions this to her, her eyes cloud over and he thinks of Root, and suddenly understands. Shaw doesn't talk for hours and the subject is not brought up again.) Even Fusco seldom complains about the abrupt spike in dead bodies around the city, for he too knows that kneecapping just doesn't cut it anymore. He and Harold and John may still be there, but there's a whole in the team now and Shaw is drowning in it.

Using their NYPD connections, Fusco and John had managed to get into the stock exchange's basement crime scene. Samaritan operatives were being loaded into body bags and carted away. John caught sight of a flash of Martine's blonde hair as one bag was zipped closed, and he couldn't help but feel a savage relief. In front of the elevator, blood had dried dark against the walls and floor. Root was covered by a sheet in the middle of the room, and they could only watch in silence as she was placed into a black bag and moved to the side. Just another body. Just another casualty of war.

The thought made John sick.

They left Root at the morgue while Harold organized for a grave to be dug at the cemetery. Shaw watched him quietly as he typed Root's name and date of birth into the computer. "Is there anything you wish to add?" he asked her quietly.

Shaw looked at Harold and then to the screen. _**Samantha Groves**_ glared up at her in bold black letters. She growled, "Her name is Root," before standing and walking away.

Harold doesn't see her again until Root's funeral. Shaw doesn't say anything, but she takes a small pleasure in seeing 'Root' on the headstone. When the casket reaches the bottom of the hole, Shaw turns on her heel and walks away. The silence at her apartment will be no better than the silence at the subway, but at least her apartment has alcohol. She spends the night drinking herself into oblivion and messing drunkenly with her guns. Around two in the morning, she falls asleep, surrounded by vodka and gunpowder and the smell of Root that still lingers softly on her couch.

XXX

 _Accessing asset information…_

 _Analog Interface detected._

 _Identity: Root._

 _Status: Deceased._

 _Filtering possible options…_

 _Contacting primary asset…_

 _Sameen Shaw._

XXX

The next morning, Shaw wakes to a pounding skull and the obnoxious beeping of what she thinks is an alarm. Her table is littered with the remnants of the night before, but she manages to snatch up the offending piece of technology. Assuming that it's Harold or John calling, she doesn't bother to check the number. Shaw shuts her eyes and prepares to chew out whoever is on the other end.

"It's too fucking early to be dealing with shitty numbers, so tell me what you want in the next five seconds or I'm hanging up," she growls, her voice slightly slurred.

"Can. You. Hear. Me." The mechanical voice of the Machine jolts Shaw awake. Jamming her finger on the end call button, she throws her phone across the room and looks at it in horror and disgust. It begins to ring again and she contemplates stepping on it, but now it really is Harold. Shaw showers and dresses and is on her way to the subway in under ten minutes.

When she arrives, John and Harold are huddled around a computer, talking in whispers. They lapse into an unsteady silence when they catch sight of the agent, and she glares at them suspiciously. Already irked by her unplanned run-in with the Machine, Shaw growls, "You called, Finch?"

"Yes," he begins cautiously. "We have a new number. However, we are still uncertain as to his intentions, whether he will become the victim or the perpetrator."

"When are we ever sure?" Shaw asks, her voice monotone. "Who is he?"

Glancing a side-look at John, Harold turns the computer toward Shaw. "Jacob Marshall, age thirty-two. His employment history says he is currently a banker, but the Machine believes he also has ties to Samaritan." Shaw's face darkens, but whether it's at the mention of the Machine or Samaritan, Harold can't tell. "I am simply instructing you and Mr. Reese to watch Mr. Marshall until we can ascertain how to best deal with the threat."

"He works for Samaritan," Shaw deadpans. "What makes you think he's _not_ the threat?"

"We don't know for certain he does, Shaw," John interjects. "The Machine just suspects. Right now, we need to figure out where the threat is coming from. You take his apartment, I'll take his office. And Shaw," he adds as she walks away, "please try not to shoot anyone." She's gone before his sentence is finished.

XXX

Shaw searches Marshall's apartment and finds nothing that points to any ties to Samaritan. She grabs his laptop and is making her way to the door when her phone rings. Clicking on her earpiece, she mutters a gruff, "What, Harold?"

"I thought you could tell the difference between me and Harry, Sameen. I'm disappointed." Shaw stops in her tracks and for a minute, she forgets to breathe.

"Root?" she whispers. "You're dead."

"Ever the optimist, aren't you? I just wanted to ask a favor."

Shaw closes her eyes and scowls, because Root doesn't _ask_ for favors. The Machine does. "If this is your way of trying to get me to work for you, forget it. Root died for you, _because_ of you. I'm not your soldier anymore, you stupid robot." Fuming, Shaw makes her way out of the apartment and onto the crowded street.

"The Machine's not a robot, Sameen," Root's voice purrs in her ear. "And I didn't die for Her. I died for you." She can hear the mechanical difference in this voice compared to how Root really sounds. Even so, the Machine's words are like a knife to the gut, and no matter how many times she repeats _not real not real not real,_ it doesn't sink it. Locating the nearest security camera, Shaw plants herself in front of it and glares.

"Listen up," she snaps. "You can use Root's voice all you want, but it won't make me help you. I don't care what lies you try to tell me. You let Root die and you could have stopped it, someone else could have died in her place. She believed in you and she would have done anything for you, even die. And when she sacrificed herself you just threw her away because she's human. Humans are replaceable to you, aren't they? Well, guess what? Root is _not_ replaceable."

When the Machine speaks again, it speaks in disjointed mechanical voices, and Shaw isn't sure if she's relieved or disappointed that she can no longer hear Root. "Root did not die for me, Agent Shaw. She sacrificed herself for you. Your survival was more important to her than her own."

Shaw shakes her head. "Root would never do that. Her mission was to save you, not me."

"You deceive yourself, Agent Shaw. Listen for yourself." Shaw's chest tightens again as Root's voice – recorded but real – fills her ear. _"I'm begging you, please, to save Sameen. You think she's the most expendable, but she's not. I need her to live through this. Sameen is good code. Please, I'm begging you, don't let her die. Even if it means I do. Sameen matters."_

Shaw looks hurriedly away from the camera, her eyes skirting around the street. Root's words are echoing in her head, and she knows deep down that the Machine is right; that Root chose to die for her. The realization bothers Shaw, but she knows it goes deeper than that. It makes her hurt and it makes her _feel_ because that's what Root does, but Root is dead because she felt too much and Shaw felt too little. She thinks back to the night before the stock exchange and how worried, how scared, Root had been.

"She knew she was going to die," Shaw states, her voice hollow.

"Yes," answers the Machine simply. "Root made her choice, Agent Shaw. Now I must ask you to do the same. Without Root, I am without an Analog Interface."

Glaring back up at the camera, Shaw cuts the Machine off before it can continue. "You want me to replace Root?" she asks harshly. "No way in hell. I'm not her. I'm a killer, not a follower, and certainly not a follower of you."

The Machine pauses before speaking again. "Root saved your life, Agent Shaw, along with the lives of your team and countless others. We are still fighting a war. I need you to help me, Shaw, if we wish to beat Samaritan."

Shaw is shaking her head before the Machine is finished. She's angry at Her audacity, yes, but she's _feeling_ something too. "I can't," she spits defiantly, but her cutting remark sticks in her throat.

"You can't, or you won't?"

"I _can't_ because I can't replace Root. I _won't_ because I don't want anything to do with you. Root is dead because of this stupid war of yours and you've already forgotten about her. You don't get to call the shots anymore, not when someone's life is on the line. Not after Root."

The Machine is quiet, and Shaw contemplates walking away. Her back is to the camera when She hums, "I miss her too, Agent Shaw."

Shaw's feelings are in a jumbled mess in her chest, but she picks anger out easily enough. "No, you don't," she growls, but her voice is low. "You don't miss Root. You miss your Analog Interface. I – _I_ miss Root." Before she can let slip anymore emotional admissions, Shaw swiftly removes her earpiece and crushes it beneath her heel. Her phone follows it into a trash can. _Too fucking bad if Harold can't find me,_ she thinks bitterly. _I'm not coming back._

The small woman stalks off down the street, weaving expertly between pedestrians as if she knows exactly where she's going. For five blocks, the little red lights on the security cameras track her movements, until she turns a corner with a swish of a dark ponytail and disappears from sight.

XXX

 _[Six months later.]_

It was early morning in New York City, the sky still dark, but already John Reese is stalking silently in the shadows. He arrives at the subway and makes his way over to the blue glow of Harold's computer. Harold is typing rapidly, but he stops abruptly when he sees John.

"Ah, good morning, Mr. Reese. I had hoped you would arrive soon. The Machine has given us a new number." Harold stands and limps out of the subway car, John trailing him.

"Any word from Shaw?" John asks quietly, his voice low and concerned. He knew his partner – his _friend_ – had taken Root's death hard, but it had been six months since Shaw's last contact and he was feeling more than a little uneasy.

Harold begins to speak before reconsidering and starting over. "No, I haven't. But this new number…it's not new, John. It's Sameen's number."

John recognizes the worried look on Harold's face and his eyes flit to the computer screen beside him. Shaw's face stares back at him, a warning blinking beneath it. "How are we supposed to find her? It's been six months, Finch. Shaw could be anywhere."

"I know, and I have already asked the Machine to search everywhere for her. We'll find her, John." Harold sounds infinitely more confident than he looks. "We'll eliminate the threat and bring Ms. Shaw back to us." John shakes his head slightly, doubtful of everything Harold has just said.

Itching to start the search for Shaw, John turns on his heel and heads out of the subway. "If you find her," he calls back over his shoulder, "tell me immediately." A swish of his black coat and he's gone, leaving Harold to stare at Shaw's picture and wait for the phone to ring.

XXX

 _Security camera feeds activated._

 _Searching for primary asset…_

 _Identity: Sameen Shaw._

 _Searching…_

 _Searching…_

 _Searching…_

 _Primary asset located._

 _Contacting primary asset…_

 _Contact terminated._

 _Contacting Admin…_

XXX

Late that night, John finds Shaw in a dingy bar tucked in a shady corner of the city. She sits in the corner of the bar, hunched protectively over a glass of amber liquid that John imagines can't be of any decent quality, but if Shaw wanted high-quality, she knew where Harold kept his stash. Her dark hair is pulled back messily into her trademark ponytail and her eyes are sunken and dark. She looks worse than John has seen her in a long time, and he wonders how long Shaw's been like this. She's come here to forget, and judging by the murderous look she sends his way upon his entrance, he's not helping.

"Go away, Reese," she growls as he approaches. Her cutting voice is slurred, and John frowns.

"Shaw, how long have you been drinking?" The agent shrugs and John figures it was a stupid question; Shaw could drink as much in thirty minutes as he could in two hours and hold it just as well. But judging by the careful distance the bartender is keeping and the fact that Shaw seems more than a little dazed, she's well exceeded her normal limit.

That worries John, but he's not surprised. He'd done the same thing too, under similar circumstances.

"The Machine gave us a new number. It's yours." He waits for a reaction, but he only gets Shaw's cold, dead eyes. "C'mon Shaw," he urges quietly. "You could be in danger. Let's get you out of here."

She flinches angrily away from him. "Fuck off, Reese. I came here to drink alone, not with your hero complex."

"I'm trying to help you, Shaw," he says, and his calm voice only angers her more. "The Machine sent us your number for a reason, and I think you're a threat to yourself."

"Oh really?" she asks, mocking.

"Yes, really. You're sitting in a run-down shack of a bar getting drunk off of some lackluster alcohol. I don't exactly think this is what you usually do on your time off."

"Getting drunk off of _lackluster alcohol_ is one of my talents," she drawls, and sends him a wicked grin before settling back into her angry mask. "Unless you intend on letting me shoot someone, leave."

John stands in silence before saying, "I don't think this is how Root envisioned you living after she saved your life, Sameen."

The glass in Shaw's hand meets the bar with so much force, John's surprised it doesn't shatter in her hand. She looks up at him, her eyes burning with rage and hatred. "You don't know _anything_ about what Root wanted!" she spits at him, her tone deadly. "You and Harold and his stupid Machine, all you've been doing is trying to tell me how Root wanted me to live my life, but you don't have a fucking clue, because she's dead. She's _dead_ , Reese! Root's dead and I'll get drunk if I fucking want to, and there's nothing you or the Machine can do to stop me. And don't call me Sameen." She turns back to her drink, her back so tense that John doesn't doubt for a second that she will shoot him if he doesn't leave.

Letting out a quiet sigh, John turns to go. "We miss her too, Shaw. But drinking yourself to death won't bring her back." He leaves the bar without another word, reeking of regret.

Shaw knocks back the rest of her drink and stares angrily into the empty glass. She's drunk now – as she's been for more nights than she can keep track of – and she could get drunker still, but she knows that tomorrow's hangover will likely be the only effect of her attempt to forget the woman who stains every part of her life. She can't even read her own name without hearing Root's sickly sweet voice mimicking it, and it makes her want to claw the sound out of her ears. The Machine's attempt to manipulate Shaw using the hacker's voice had failed, but she couldn't deny the first few seconds where she had sworn it was Root on the other end of the phone.

It had been six months since Shaw had watched Root fall to the ground in a hail of bullets and blood. Six months since she heard the hacker's incessant flirting. Six months since she had felt anything but anger. Six months since she held Root's lifeless body in her arms, and still she was no closer to recovery. It might not have been what Root died for, but she shouldn't have died at all. Standing with as little stumbling as possible for her inebriated state, Shaw makes her way to the door. The cold air hits her face but she barely feels it. Looking at the ground, she walks unsteadily down the street. Her vision is unfocused and she waits for a car to hit her every time she reaches a crosswalk without looking up. Compared to what hurts inside, the pain would be welcome.

Her apartment is cold and empty when Shaw reaches it. Not bothering to undress, she falls drunkenly onto her bed and closes her eyes. She finds herself hoping briefly, and not for the first time, that she won't have to wake up in the morning. Dying would almost be preferable to trying to continue living the way she was. Darkness overtakes her and her final thoughts are filled with Root.

Outside her window, the red light of a security camera blinks in the dark; its steady rhythm starting and then stopping in sync with the heartbeat of the woman inside.

XXX

 _Accessing asset information…_

 _Primary asset identified._

 _Identity: Sameen Shaw._

 _Status: Endangered._

 _Chance of survival: 14.06%._

 _Chance of survival without medical attention: 2.83%._

 _Contacting Admin…_


End file.
